ahh children... being the very manifestation of the disgusting corners of the human mind

How I despise these little twats and their caretakers. Their insectoid symbiosis being the only thing keeping them alive. The only thing allowing them to breathe. Both producer and product, so dependent on eachother that the removal of one would mean the death of the other. Money. Power. Wealth. All these are vain substitutes for the real drug: self indulgence..

How we strive to feel awed and loved. How we feast on the happiness of others. How we wish to surf the waves....but alas, the tide will turn..

...And he continued towards the sun, taking no notice of his melting wings

adieu

Ok, Micolus, you can do this.

This man we know of as Micolus is making futile attempts to remove the nail polish on his nails.

Yes...this strange mixture of purple, black and red is to be removed and replaced by dull semitransparent nail-grey.

scraping away.

"I've tried everything lord, everything! But it just won't do. The nail polish has been allowed to ravage the previously so immaculate nails for too long and now it's too late. Only mistress Aceton can help us now"

SCRAPE GODDAMNIT. MISTRESS ACETON IS DEAD. DEAD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

unless we scrape thoroughly, the poisonous polish will forever rule over the nails.

but...it's....too....fucking...late



YES (1969) is a superb album by prog rock legends Yes.

with awelike songs such as:
-Every Little Thing
-Harold Land
-I See You
-Sweetness

This song puts me to tears. Pink floyd are musical Gods. Thank you.

"Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times"

Three Gods in Time

 

And by the tables sits three divines

Three gods in time

Chanting and cheering their cheerful song

In blissful peace they dine

 

Drinking to eternal health

To perpetual dreams of awe

To the ceasing of the running sand

and the ceasing of the law

 

But all is not well in blissful land

For darkness has emerged

Within the heart of these divines

From bliss they shall be purged

 

Lady luck was first to fall

Her shallow dreams have gone

The die of fate, upon the table cast

Shaded by the sun

 

Lord of Joy, a smile sublime

Was second to succumb

To the chilling hand of sorrow

No longer known as numb

 

Mistress of love, beauteous and free

The last one reaped by fate

Torn out from eternal glee

Replaced by that of hate

 

And by the table sits three divines

Three gods in time

Wailing and mourning their mournful song

In dark distress they dine

And so it is time again. The banker has come to collect. The price must be paid. That is the ultimate law of nature. For any high there must be a low. It seems to me curious that our minds should work in this way. We are so careless and so carefree when were on our summits. We accept any price, any fee, for this blissful state. We don't think we just act. In the end though the summit turns into the very abyss of sorrow. Where we are bound to walk about with no other light than that of our memories. They must guide us through thick and thin.

Emancipation is the only drug worth injecting.

The addiction to the others is too mighty for a mere mortal.

Empty hat

These men are born out of anguish
Hurled into this dark world
These men escaped their chains and fled their graves
These men deciphered the indecipherable and illuminated the shadows
These men were above other men. These men ruled the earth

They stripped the world of its mask
No longer would men hide behind their roles
Everywhere roamed naked actors begging their newfound masters to create another stage
To write another act. To direct the herd
These men cared not for such distractions.
These men cared only to fill the black void inside them

The world was no different
But no longer would there be any veils
They lived in a dark world
Where the deafening roar of the eternal wheel forced them to succumb
Where the ferocious cogs slammed into one another causing the earth to shift
Where nature was just another name for this mighty machine
An unyielding clockwork whose sole purpose was the absence of purpose.
Whose sole aspiration was the absence of aspiration

The men lay naked on the floor begging their masters to return them to their blissful peace
But expose the magician and no longer will the shadows conceal him
Their sole wish was to once again bleat along to their never-ending song

The flying dutchman flew no more and we shed several tears for the foul trick it played on us.

hmm...

School once again pumps my blood. My blue beautiful blood...

Three things to be done in the near future. Then what? freedom? I would not think so...

Anywho, enjoying my sparetime at least. I purchased oblivion a couple of hours ago. Bought, Michael, bought!

Anyway...no juice yet. Maybe it is required of me to ascend before the juice of awe is to be given to me.

Yup...I smashed 'em; they came back




"We read to know that we're not alone" mmh

At last three weeks of waiting has come to an end.

Adieu

Cause I'm the green manalishi with the two pronged crown

I'm verily confused right now. I feel I should not write in this state for I doth tend to flum whenever these types of feelings encumber me. mmh. I'm listening to Rush, after having seen a great movie. How much better can life get? Floating away on rivers of other people's creativity. The little guy inside my head must be silenced for I cannot take his horrendous little voice anymore. What is the point with creativity if one cannot enjoy others'. Damn you, little man.

You're never gonna die.

I...I...

compensate me
animate me
complicate me
elevate me
-rush

So it came to be that Micolus left the earth and ascended to the stars. Forty days after his revival. myes.

FUCK ME IM BORING. It is as Zola says.....one cannot produce anything of relevance if one is not emotionally or psychologically damaged. Which I am by the way. Yet I..I


oh fuck me im tired and I hate this blog shit it's driving me nuts

adieu, and P fucking S: This E-Interacting is driving me nuts. I'll be going to the various servers around the world in order to shut down internet, anyone care to join me?

my little advertising scam on BDB went well, I suppose. I had more than ten people on my blog that day, which I would consider a fair success. The problem is, of course, that any positive feeling is destined to be followed by a negative one. The higher the tops, the lower the bottoms.

In perspective.

I have quite some things to do this week and so I shall not write. Perhaps I will contradict my previous statement to prove my abilities in the field of foresight futile. We shall see.

I want to remain in this summit, forever scrutinizing your moves. Beauty.

The angel descended, and took us by our hands.

Truth is though. . .

Our lives have been written. We have just not yet acquired the proper tools to read them yet.


Deos oro, sed frustra
Dii me iubunt, sed frustra

Revelations

Everything was nothing. It was upon this sole statement that his world was built. He was in a coma, and in this coma nothing existed. He lay in the green grass, surrounded by soothing smells. He knew nothing of the real world. He knew nothing of the green grass. He was well within his own mind and he had no desire to look outside. How long had he been lying there? It did not seem to matter, for time itself had lost its importance and so he lay there, in the green grass, floating on the clouds of his own creations.

Something called for him from an unrecognizable source. The walls of his mind seemed to echo with its powerful voice. Although there were no actual words spoken, the voice conveyed a cascade of feelings and thoughts to his world of non-existence.  It told him of the real world, of grass, forests and of animals. It told him of beauty and of warmth, and as it continued he realized that he felt these emotions. He became aware of his physical body. He felt the motherly embrace of the green grass. His lungs were filled with fresh air and the smells were astonishing. As he inhaled the very essence of nature he felt that he was completely calm. This was a lot better than his dreams and his thoughts. Mother Nature had conjured things, to him unimaginable; things, which would leave even the greatest of poets in awe.

He opened his eyes and rose from his position and stood up on the smooth grass. The surrounding animals were astonished with this sudden revival and they stood in awe of this break of the routine. He was running, saluting the animals in a childish fashion, openly expressing his joy.

There was much of the world left to see and to explore but he was contented with what he had begun to know and feel comfortable with. As time passed, he eventually felt as one with his surroundings and understood that he was now a vital part of its existence. Not so long after his revival, time once again became fluid and once again did the lines between reality and dream dissolve and he was plunged into the realm of unconsciousness. He had entered his second coma.

Again the voice trembled. However, it was sterner now, as if to tell him that it was of grave importance for him to listen carefully. Once again it did not speak in words. It told him of wonders and of miracles. It told him of improvement and of victory. As it spoke, a shape appeared in front of him. It managed to enter his beautiful realm. It was a black figure. Though the voice did not alter in tone or form he could see that the source of it was no longer unidentifiable; it came from the figure’s mouth. The black messenger disappeared in a chaotic turmoil and when the smoke had cleared, nothing was left to tell of its existence but a huge black book. Naturally, he reached for the book. It was a beautiful piece of art, with several complex symbols and paintings on the cover. As he opened the book, it exploded in the sounds of a million voices. These voice took complete dominion of his mind and he was infused with its dark message. The sound that rose from the book was an orchestra of sobbing, wailing voices crying in pain and agony. They warned him not to open the book. He, of course, disregarded this warning and proceeded.

There were no words, only blank pages. Even they held some form of tacit beauty and he was intrigued by the exquisite inscriptions on the front cover. Suddenly, while he was admiring one certain symbol, the book forced itself open and letters appeared on the previously blank pages. It was written violently and the black ink, though intriguing and beautiful, made him feel severe unease .

He read.

It told him of everything. He learned the concept of time, the laws of physics, and the secrets of the universe. He saw how blind and stupefied he had been, and he shuddered at the very thought of his comatose self. As he read, the day turned into night, a phenomena he had never seen before, but which he completely understood now that it took place. Although the darkness would normally make reading impossible, the light from his eyes enabled him to continue with his research. There would no longer be darkness, for he had created light. There would no longer be grief, for he had created happiness. And no longer would there be death, for he had conquered it. It was noticed by the animals that it was not until after him reading the book that tragedies and death became reality. There would no longer be fantasy, there would only be facts.

A certain passage in the book told him of his surroundings and of the undiscovered. Although it had a very vivid and exact description of the earth he stood upon, its focus lay in the skies. It was the tales of the stars, the moon and the vast cosmos that caught his attention. He remembered learning, in the early days, about hope and aspiration. As he read further about the mysterious skies, he began to realize that the moon and the stars were the manifestations of these particular aspects of the human mind. As this realization illuminated him, the black ink disappeared into the blank pages and the book vanished. It did not matter; he was all too intrigued by his recent discoveries to let his attention be caught by anything but his own dreams.

He stared at the sky, not moving one inch. He admired it in silence. Constellations formed in front of him and the stars were given meanings. They became symbols of his dreams and wishes. The world changed around him. The nature, which he had been a part of decayed around him, betrayed by his neglect. It did not matter; his focus was elsewhere. The animals looked at him in their grief begging him to return, but it was for naught. He had entered his third coma.

He had not turned his gaze from the stars since he first discovered them and the world he was still physically a part of turned to dispose of him. Slowly, the grass around his feet crawled up his body and around his neck. The green thick collar pulled him towards the ground leaving the rest to the earth. The ground, upon which he lay, opened and he was devoured by the green earth. All was now well, and his body had merged with that of the earth. His soul, however, would not rest; it would forever dream of the stars above.